


Love Languages

by onereyofstarlight



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereyofstarlight/pseuds/onereyofstarlight
Summary: An exploration of how the boys say I love you to one another. Based on the idea of “five love languages” – quality time, words of affirmation, physical touch, acts of service, giving and receiving gifts. I figured five languages and five brothers well… TAG verse





	1. Alan

Alan’s first and only memory of his mother is of Christmas Day. It’s gone soft around the edges and no longer can he picture her face without the blue tint of a holophoto. He doesn’t remember her words, just the excited cadence of her voice as she carries him into a room full of light and wonder, his brothers jostling one another and chattering excitedly on the floor. A brightly wrapped box is pressed into his hands.

“Rip!” yells Gordon, bouncing up and down. “Rip it open!”

Alan rips and in his small hands is a toy fish – bright orange and white stripes – the same fish that Gordon has spent month jealously guarding from his baby brother. Alan lifts it to his mouth and starts to chew on its tail. He can hear his mother’s laughter at Gordon’s cry of dismay.

“Ta,” he mumbles around the plastic.

***

Alan looked fondly at the old fish, still treasured after so many years. It was early summer on Tracy Island according to the calendar, although the seasons has morphed into new names of dry and rainy since moving to the tropics. The true mark of summer, was the annual Christmas outing. A solid 24 hours of no rescues, no emergencies and time with his brothers to purchase Christmas gifts. Alan looked forward to this day every year.

“Are you coming Alan?” called Virgil from the door. “We’re waiting for you.”

Alan scrambled up and grinned at his older brother. “I’m coming! Don’t leave without me!”

Racing ahead to Thunderbird Two, he waved goodbye to Kayo and Grandma Tracy and dived into his seat behind John. John chuckled and handed him a sealed envelope.

“Please don’t get me cream cheese like someone did last year,” he said. “I don’t particularly want to be a recipient of a science experiment that should have been kept in the fridge.”

Gordon pouted beside Alan. “The communal fridge? The fridge that everyone uses? The fridge where anyone can eat presents that are just innocently lying there?” he said. “Come on Johnny, I couldn’t risk that. And how come you get to know who’s getting your present? Can’t you give me a hint?”

John considered for a moment. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Alan laughed as he peeked in the envelope. As expected, he could see John’s name written on a piece of paper inside.

***

The round robin gift tradition has been a foundation of Tracy family Christmases for years. Alan loves every aspect of it. He loves finding out his gift recipient and the flight to New Zealand, or Australia, or Singapore, or (on one memorable occasion) Chile. He adores his four brothers beside him and the way they all disperse on arrival, sometimes alone and sometimes with a partner, trying to find that perfect gift until they all meet up again for lunch and spend the afternoon together. Gordon always tries to rifle through the purchases and Alan loves the exasperated affection of their shared older brothers as they chase him away.

“Don’t even think about it,” says Virgil, slapping away Gordon’s hand. “I’m not giving anything to you.”

“Would you tell me if you were?” asks Gordon. “You have to say that.”

“Where’s John got to?” interrupts Scott, looking around him.

“We lost him about two hours ago,” says Virgil with a shrug.

Alan remembers seeing him slip into a bookshop just after lunch with a pinched look. He doesn’t remember seeing him come back out.

“Every year,” mutters Scott as he turns around and walks back down the street. Gordon pulls out his communicator and starts to talk to John’s inevitable answering message.

Alan and Virgil exchange a glance and follow them. They know to keep an eye on John with his tendency to disappear when he’s had his fill of people, the notion of telling someone never occurring to him. Alan offers up the name of the bookshop where he last saw John, but they find him in a science museum, telling a small group of children with round eyes about black holes. He appears utterly unrepentant when he catches sight of Scott, tapping his foot and hunched over in the archway. Alan wishes he could be so calm at the sight of an irritated Scott. They let him finish his impromptu lecture.

“Communication, John,” growls Scott as John waves goodbye to the small and beaming children.

Gordon obnoxiously calls the communicator once again to demonstrate that yes, it is in fact fully functional.

John absent-mindedly swipes the beeping icon on his wrist away, and Alan grins at his older brother. He hears Virgil’s steady laughter and is reminded of his mother.

***

One present from one brother at Christmas was the rule their mother had insisted upon, brought over from her own childhood. Alan has come to treasure the morning where each of his brothers gets the wholly undivided attention of the others as the gifts are opened.

“Thanks Alan,” said John with a small smile, as he carefully flicks through the comic book Alan had chosen for him. An old Tintin story, one that John himself used to read to Alan on a tablet.

“Anytime John,” said Alan, feeling the warm glow at his brother’s appreciation. “Better than a cream cheese bagel at least.”

Gordon huffs a little and waves him off. “Virgil,” he called. “Your turn.”

“Merry Christmas Alan,” said Virgil, sitting down next to him.

Alan takes the gift and jokingly shakes it before laying it down in his lap. His brothers watch as he pries the tape from the paper. A framed photograph rests in his hands, a real photograph of his father standing behind his mother and a beaming three-year-old with a fish in his mouth. His heart constricts in his chest as he stares, drinking in the sparkle in his mother’s brown eyes, the strawberry blonde of her hair. He feels Gordon sinking into the seat on his other side, pressing into him and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“She’d be so proud of you Ally,” says Scott in a thick voice.

Alan draws his knees up to his chest and hugs the frame.

“Thanks Virgil,” he says, eyes and voice wet. “I love it.”

He knows his brothers can hear his unspoken words and he loves them all the more fiercely for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it is October. Yes, I wrote a Christmas fic anyway. But admittedly, this was just an excuse to write a situation where we can see Alan both giving and receiving presents ^^ I also wanted to explore a little what it's like for Alan to grow up with four older brothers with memories of their mother and him virtually without.
> 
> A round robin is exactly how my siblings and I do presents - we decided years ago that everyone buying just makes it WAY harder and you don't need four gifts from all the siblings!!
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you thought, this is my first Thunderbirds fic and I'm curious to know what people think of my characterisation. I do have plans for all five brothers so I'm taking a leap of faith that I'll finish them in a timely manner. 
> 
> I would also love to hear your thoughts on which love language is most prominent for each of the boys (heck, extend it out to other characters if you like - I'd love to hear them!). I know its unlikely that all five ACTUALLY have different love languages but like.... the numbers are right there lol.


	2. Gordon

John was so rarely on Earth these days and Gordon could feel a grin threatening to crack his face as he raced towards his brother. He reached out to grab his brother’s arm, to drag him down to his level and show John how he’d been missed. John wasn’t prepared for Gordon’s weight, fresh out of orbit and peering blearily around the room, so instead they crash to the ground together. Gordon didn’t mind and he laughed at the squawk he managed to pull from John on the journey down.

“Get off me,” said John irritably and he pushed Gordon away.

Scott reached down and hoisted John up with an easy-going laugh and an outstretched hand. Virgil clasped John’s shoulder in friendly greeting and Gordon felt a twinge of jealousy from the floor as John reach out and ruffle Alan’s hair.

When John had stumbled his way towards his room and his siblings wandered off to other areas of the house, Scott sat down next to Gordon who hadn’t moved.

“Come on squid,” he said with a sigh. “You know not to crowd John like that on his first day.”

Gordon could feel a pout start to form and swallowed his indignation. His jaw jutted out and he carefully avoided Scott’s gaze.

“Yeah, my bad,” he muttered, trying not to play back that moment when John was willing to tolerate everyone’s touch but his own.

Later, John will creep into Gordon’s room with a Celery Crunch Bar and an unformed apology on his lips, and Gordon will accept them both. John will sidestep the proffered hug and neither of them will speak, each as bewildered as the other by the actions they observe.

***

Gordon might have accepted John’s apology, but he hadn’t let the matter go just yet. He was well aware of the differences between himself and his older brother, the two polar opposites of personality on their family’s spectrum. He knew it shouldn’t irk him that John had now brushed off contact with him twenty-seven times in the last week. But Gordon had also been watching him closely and he’s seen John tolerate, if not outright welcome Virgil and Brains’ intrusion into his personal space. When Scott sat on top of John’s long limbs, dangling off the end of the couch, John had merely rolled his eyes and casually propped his feet up on Scott’s shoulder. He’d flicked the page of his book and continued reading, unaware of Gordon’s mounting envy. And when Alan had fallen asleep in the middle of breakfast after a long rescue, it had been John who had volunteered to put him to bed. Gordon had snuck up and watched, as John serenely stroked his little brother’s hair through the tossing and turning, with a melancholy ache in his gut. When Alan shot up with a gasp and instinctually clung to John, Gordon found himself having to turn from the unbearable intimacy of John holding Alan close.

So, Gordon had plenty of evidence the despite everyone’s belief, John didn’t actually have an invisible bubble surrounding him to deflect all forms of physical contact. Gordon flipped over in the pool and floated gently in the water. He sighed and closed his eyes. _Just a problem with me then_, he thought gloomily to himself. It would be typical that his siblings wouldn’t even recognise that he’d been shut out without any hope of entry in their brother’s life.

“What are you moping about out here?” asked a voice from the pool side.

Gordon opened his eyes to see Virgil silhouetted by the bright sunlight above him. “Nothing,” he said as he manoeuvred himself into an upright position, treading water casually.

Virgil snorted. “Don’t give me that, I’ve been watching you floating and sighing for the last fifteen minutes.”

“That’s a little weird Virg,” said Gordon.

“Got it,” said Virgil. “Classic avoidance technique, do not engage, not my problem.” He splashed water at Gordon as he sat down at the pool’s edge, hoping for a rise.

Gordon swam to the other side of the pool.

“Real mature,” called Virgil. “Get your ass over here before I haul Scott into this.”

Gordon groaned and propelled himself back towards Virgil. “Low blow bro,” he said, hauling himself out of the pool and staring moodily at the water.

Virgil waited, humming a little as he watched the gulls soaring overhead.

“It’s John, okay?” said Gordon.

“Mm hmm,” said Virgil. “What did he do?”

“He,” Gordon began before pulling himself up short. He knew John hadn’t actually done anything, that was half the problem. “He’s just being John I s’pose.” 

Virgil looked at Gordon strangely. “I thought you were both getting on pretty well actually. You’re mad that you’re not arguing?”

Gordon shook his head. “Well, no, obviously not, I like that we’ve been getting on better. Or at least I thought we were.” He sighed again, well aware that his bout of self-pity would not garner any sympathy from Virgil. “He barely even gives me the time of the day. It’s like he’s decided he can’t be bothered to deal with me and I’ve been relegated to a problem for a future John to puzzle out.” He kicked at the water suddenly. “It just feels like he’d be having a better holiday if I weren’t around.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Virgil. “It’s John. It’s a mandatory holiday and I know for a fact that as much as John loves us, he’d rather be back up on Thunderbird Five. He’s always antsy down here, he’s never been one to sit back idly while we head off to do rescues.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Gordon. “At least he can stand to touch you.”

A great chasm stretched between them in the silence, its immensity weighing on Gordon until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Virgil reached across it like the gap wasn’t even there to pull Gordon in close. Gordon closed his eyes and breathed in the certainty of a brother who stood with him and knew what he needed.

“You need to talk to John,” said Virgil quietly. “I know its not your instinct, and it’s not his either. But he’ll listen to you if you tell him what you need.”

***

In the end it’s John who finds Gordon, wandering down to the hangar to see if he needed any help with the maintenance checks of Thunderbird Four. Gordon gives him a running list of tools and to his surprise, John doesn’t argue. They work in companionable silence for a time, Gordon calling out his list and John handing him the corresponding tool.

Gordon breaks first as John must have known he would.

“Are you here for a particular reason John?” he asks, straightening up and stretching.

John shrugged and avoided his gaze. “Not really. Just thought you could use a hand.”

Gordon waited expectantly.

“And we haven’t hung out much and I’m heading back into to orbit soon,” said John. “And contrary to popular belief, I do actually miss being around you guys when I’m up there.”

Gordon’s mouth thinned. “Virgil put you up to this,” he said flatly.

“What?” said John, looking genuinely startled. “Not at all.”

“Yeah, that’s really funny John,” Gordon said, a bitter tone creeping into his voice. “That bastard is such a meddler.” Gordon shook his head and turned to stomp towards the door only for a hand to reach out and grab his sleeve.

Gordon and John both looked at John’s hand in surprise and then at each other. John lightened his grip and gestured to a couch, nestled in the corner of the hangar.

“Let’s talk,” he said before flopping onto the couch.

Gordon followed him hesitantly and perched on the arm by John’s head.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said John without preamble. “You’re normally a lot more you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Gordon. “You’re the one avoiding me!”

“On every other visit home, you’ve planned out my entire holiday and been in my space virtually all day every day,” said John. “This time, I’m lucky to see you once a day. Avoidance.”

Gordon kicked his leg along the side of the couch. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

John suppressed a laugh. “Yeah, real busy,” he said with a familiar note of sarcasm. “Did you know Scott won’t even let me listen to mission comms during rescues? And no one will let me do anything because ‘I’m on holiday’. Virgil actually locked me out of the workshop because I was apparently getting underfoot.” John looked over at Gordon. “It’s been a nightmare.”

Gordon cracked a smile, but it was fleeting.

John nudged his knee. “And then there’s that.” He said. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not very happy.”

“It’s stupid,” said Gordon automatically.

“But it is something,” said John quietly. “I know I’m not the first choice of brothers, but you can talk to me.” He gave a wry grin. “And with my access to virtually everything of interest revoked, you even have a decent shot of having my full attention.”

Gordon deliberated for a few minutes, and John lay still and quiet.

“Everyone says you don’t do physical contact,” Gordon says. “You certainly don’t with me. But I’ve been watching and that’s just not true so it feels like I’ve upset you in some way. Have I?”

John is silent for a few seconds. Gordon knows his brother, knows he will be carefully planning his next few words.

“I don’t do physical contact like you do Gords,” he says slowly. “But I would have thought you were the first to understand that not everyone does things the way you do.”

“Well, yeah,” says Gordon. “But you’ve not touched me at all, and I’ve seen you with the others. Virgil is in and out of your space constantly, Alan after that rescue. It just makes me feel,”

“Lonely,” finished John. He sighed and tilted his head up to look at Gordon. “Do you know what Earth feels like after an extended period in space? Do you know what it feels like on your skin?”

Gordon shook his head. Oh, he’s gone into space, but not for the sort of time that John is talking about.

“When your skin doesn’t have to resist against anything, not even your clothes, it weakens,” said John. “Part of the reason, I don’t like coming back is because even with all our technology, we can’t beat the fact that humans are not designed for space. I have rashes all over just from wearing clothes, and every unexpected touch makes my skin feel like it’s on fire because my nerves have forgotten how to react properly.”

“That’s horrible,” said Gordon. He reaches out for John and then freezes.

John looked at his outstretched arms with a sad smile. “And look at your instincts,” he said. “No wonder you think I’m upset with you.”

He reached up an arm and gently pulled Gordon’s hand down to rest lightly on his shoulder.

“I’m not upset with you Gords,” he said quietly. “It’s just that you’re like the sun, never do anything by half, and I can’t always handle that. But you and I can teach each other about what we need, right?”

Gordon nodded and slid down to the floor. He rested his head against John’s arm and exhaled slowly. “Is this alright Johnny?”

John said nothing and smiled.

“Good,” said Gordon. “Because I don’t want you flinching away from me for the rest of your holiday.”

John yawned. “Just give me a heads up and listen if I say to back off. That’s what the others do.”

“Even Scotty?”

John swatted at him in response as Gordon laughed.

***

Gordon looked up at the sound of the siren indicating the approach of the space elevator.

“John’s home,” called Alan as he raced past the door.

Gordon grinned and followed him to meet their tall, tired brother.

“Hey guys,” he says, allowing Scott to shake his hand and reaching out to ruffle Alan’s hair. He spots Gordon hovering in the doorway and strides over to him. Gordon stands perfectly still as John reaches out to lightly touch his shoulders and grin affectionately at him. “Good holiday planned out for me?”

“You bet,” said Gordon with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know I love the idea of Gordon and John interacting like nobody's business. 
> 
> In terms of the long term effects of space travel on skin, you lose the protective calluses on your feet and other nasties. The physiological impact of being in space has on the human body is really interesting and there's so much that we're still learning about this area!
> 
> I borrowed most of John's discussions of his symptoms from the aticle below:  
https://www.sciencealert.com/scott-kelly-says-his-feet-still-hurt-3-months-after-his-year-in-space
> 
> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	3. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for language. I may have to also update the tags to reflect the ANGST because I really have no chill here.

Actions speak louder than words. In the field of communication, John had learnt that people rarely meant what they said, especially when in distress. The first rule of the job was that what sounded like anger – loud, harsh voices coupled with wild gestures and a lot of banging on nearby surfaces – that anger was masking the protective stances of fearful people who didn’t yet know how to be courageous.

John had looked courage dead in the eye every day since Thunderbird Five became his permanent home. He saw the quiet determination of mothers desperate to protect their children. He saw the soft touches of comfort between friends. He saw the steely resolve, the gentle encouragement, the endurance pushed to the limit and the sacrifice. John drew strength from it all. And he knew that for all his reassurances, his words meant nothing to the people below without his brothers fighting their way towards rescue. John had seen the shift people made towards the end as hope flickered out. The shift towards desperation, towards bargaining and anger. The shift towards a numbness where people found a calm acceptance and a desire to be heard and to be given false hope and to tell their story. John, with them to the end, passed on messages of love that provided no comfort to their families in their grief. So, John knew the old adage well, he knew that his brothers’ actions would always speak louder than his words.

Whenever life was lost, International Rescue had to be shut down. Officially, the GDF were running an investigation into the lead up, actions and decisions of IR members to determine liability. In reality, they were provided with enforced downtime and access to mental and physical health check-ups. John would come back to Earth, spending the first forty-eight hours secreted in his room. Then he would set to work.

A visit to the family, to talk with them about their loved ones, to convey the sorrow and loss, to pitch in if needed, to lend a listening ear as those around him grieved. He took their anger and saw underneath it all, through to their despair. John’s gift to those families was ensuring they had time for the pain and confusion to be felt. John’s penance was to avoid his own.

***

On Tracy Island the brothers tread carefully, lightly stepping over the cracks that were beginning to appear in John’s façade. John moved like a ghost and his brothers watched as he became snappish and withdrawn. John hated the prickly isolation he found himself in every time, counting down the days before he could escape to his stars. His desperate need for contact warred against the dread inside him that this would be the time where his brothers would finally realise that they couldn’t love a person with blood on their soul and anger bubbling under his skin. So, he ignored the growing trembling in his hands and locked himself in his room, waiting for some sign that these feelings would pass peacefully into oblivion.

“You know this can’t go on,” muttered Virgil to Scott as they both watched John staring blankly at the table in front of him in the living room. “This is killing him.”

“You want to be the one to tell him he’s grounded?” demanded Scott in a whisper. “He can’t pilot Five like this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“He needs us to show him we still love him,” said Virgil.

“He’ll need to accept it from us first.”

A sudden shout of laughter could be heard from outside and John flinched away from the sound. A sour expression twisted itself onto John’s face and Gordon and Alan wandered into the room.

“Morning space brain,” said Gordon cheerfully. “How’s life on Planet John?”

“Go jump in the ocean.”

Gordon clutched his hands to his stomach and doubled over. “And the blow strikes true,” he said blithely. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” snapped John. “Leave me alone.”

Alan stretched out his hand towards John and John smacked it away.

“Don’t, Alan,” he said, dark warning creeping into his voice. He unfolded himself from his seat and moved out of reach.

“John, what’s wrong?” asked Alan in concern.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m going back to bed.”

Turning around, he spied Scott and Virgil from their position in the doorway.

“Move,” he said.

Virgil stepped out into the room. Scott merely raised an eyebrow.

John took a steadying breath and closed his eyes.

“Scott, could you get out of my way, _please_.”

The crack in John’s voice reverberated around the room and to John’s horror, every eye was on him as tears welled up unbidden and his resolve finally shattered in front of his brothers.

Scott caught him, as Scott always did. John felt himself being steered back to the sofa he had just vacated and gently pushed down. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, as though that could hide the shuddering gasps or the shaking shoulders. His hands curled up over his ears, trying to block out the comforting hums Virgil was making and the constant reassurances from his baby brother who should never have seen him like this. Gordon was uncharacteristically silent.

When the sobs finally quietened and self-awareness bled back into John’s consciousness, he stilled as embarrassment flooded his body.

“That’s it, John,” said Scott mildly. “Back with us?”

John reluctantly opened his eyes, squinting a little in the late morning sun. He was sandwiched between Virgil and Scott. His knees were curled into his chest and Alan rested at his feet.

“Drink,” said Gordon, appearing with a glass of water in front of him.

John took the glass with trembling fingers and rested his head against the cool material.

“Idiot,” muttered Gordon. Virgil kicked him.

John ignored them both. He was becoming aware of the dehydration headache beginning to settle against his temples.

“Here,” said Scott quietly, offering him a straw. John took it gratefully and sipped at the water, nursing the ache in his chest and unsure of his next steps.

“You guys,” he started. The words seemed to stick in his throat, their magnitude too great for this fragile setting.

“I love you all,” he said quickly. “You need to know, in case I…”

_die_.

The air seemed to rush out of the room as the shared thought echoed around the room. No one would ever say it aloud, fearful of being the one to speak the unthinkable into existence.

“We know,” said Alan. His eyes were bright. “You show us that all the time.”

“Yeah, like every time you take one for the team and clean Gordon’s room,” said Virgil.

“How could you think we don’t know?” demanded Scott.

John shrugged. “I know you know. But I needed to know that you know.”

“That makes zero sense,” said Gordon.

“I just,” John said. “I don’t know. Or I do, but I don’t want to lose it again.”

“Of course not, we mustn’t find out that John has real life _feelings_,” muttered Gordon.

“You’re talking this out,” Scott told him while glaring over his head at Gordon. “I know you’d rather it was on your terms but we’ve waited long enough for this. So bad luck.”

John’s eyes drooped closed and Alan poked him in the leg.

“I’m not sleeping,” he said, crossly.

“Good, because you’re not getting out of this.” said Scott. “How long has this been building for?”

John was silent and, for a second, Scott thought he had drifted to sleep.

“I’m not sure,” he said, picking his words carefully. “This particular mood, since the asteroid mine.”

Scott shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that,” he said. “You said it was a miracle that they even got a call out and that you were nearby. The GDF reports confirm that.”

John huffed a choked sounding laugh. “You think I’m upset about the mission failure? What exactly do you think I do up there? It’s not the first mission failure I’ve seen.”

“Yes, but not first hand,” said Scott. Virgil could feel John squaring up for a fight next to him.

“Scott,” murmured Gordon, but Scott either couldn’t hear the warning or he just didn’t care.

“It’s different when you’re in the field,” insisted Scott. “It’s rawer, you can’t disconnect yourself as easily.”

“Be quiet Scott,” spat John. A chill permeated the air and Scott looked at his little brother, really looked at him. He saw an unfamiliar young man, fuming where he was normally a picture of calm, a raging storm of emotions and poised to strike. He watched as an odd expression flitted across his brother’s face and before his eyes, the passion seemed to bleed from John’s limbs.

“You have no idea,” breathed John. “I’m never disconnected from them, do you understand me? Not once, except unlike you, I can’t help them. And when you’re too late, when you find them _dead_. What do you think I was doing in the meantime?”

The living room was silent.

“I don’t shut down comms for anything,” said John hollowly. His eyes were staring blankly at the table again. “They tell me about themselves, they’re not nameless victims of freak accidents that you couldn’t reach in time. You say I’m disconnected? What was the name of that teenager in the Mexican caves last year? What did she plan to do in university? What was the names of her friends already dead around her? She had so much hope that you’d get to her, you know, but she was also so scared. And do you know what she did in the end? She apologised for wasting our time – those were her last words.”

John blinked, coming back into himself. He reached up to wipe the tears that were spilling once more down his face.

“That’s fucked up,” said Gordon, his voice too loud and too irreverent for what John had just revealed.

John snuffled wetly. “Yeah, Gordo, it is fucked up.”

“What did they say this time?” asked Alan.

“Nothing,” said John, looking down at his youngest brother. “They were already venting atmosphere by the time I connected our comm lines.” He leaned back against the sofa. “I could hear gasping. They weren’t dead just yet. I talked to them for twenty-three minutes until I got to them. They stopped breathing after two.”

“You did what you could Johnny,” said Scott quietly.

“And it wasn’t enough,” said Virgil. “When they die, it never feels like you did enough.”

“Even when there’s nothing more you could do,” said Gordon.

“I know that,” said John. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already told myself before.”

Alan slowly got up and walked over to their Dad’s desk. Rifling through one of the drawers, he pulled out a tablet and deposited it into John’s lap.

“Kayo and I went up to clean up the wreckage for you last week,” he said. “And while we were there, we found that the mining probe was too small to carry the same kind of emergency gear required in Low Earth Orbit. Legally, it turns out that it’s the responsibility of operators to ensure their own safety as independent contractors. The company that employs them won’t take the hit.”

John eyed the tablet carefully.

“Those bastards,” swore Gordon.

“Can you do something with that?” asked Alan.

John’s pale and blotchy face twitched a little as he skimmed the files. It’s not much, but it helps. Knowing that he has something to do, something to make sure that the grieving family of Barnaby Jones will be gain restitution. And if EOS and him did a little digging of their own, left a few trails back to the Astra Corporation that had left him to die, and rewrote a few laws of their own – well, they could hardly be blamed for an afternoon’s hard work.

“Leave it with me,” he said, a sly glint flashing in his eyes. “I can do something all right.”

The brothers around him relaxed at the familiar sight of John absorbed in the work in front of him, and one by one, they started to drift away.

All but one.

“You don’t have to go back, you know,” said Scott, eyeing John carefully. “Not just yet.”

John’s sure hands faltered on the text in front of him.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” Scott stood and stretched. “This whole thing isn’t like you John. You can fool the others but not me.”

He held up a hand against John’s choked stammering.

“You broke down, because up until two weeks ago, you never once stopped to think about the time where that was nearly you.”

“What do you want to hear, Scott? Yes, of course I’m terrified. I know with excruciating detail how easy it is for things to go wrong up there. There’s no margin for error, if something goes wrong and I don’t catch it. I’m dead and there’ll be nothing you or Alan or the others could do about it.”

“So, don’t go.”

“I have to,” said John, picking at the threads of his T-shirt. “Otherwise I never will.”

***

One day later, John was back in orbit. He had missed his home, suspended above the Earth and his still, silent stars. He now missed his brothers, forever torn between his family and his universe. He hoped they understood why he stayed away, selfishly hoped his service upon his greatest joy was enough for them to see how much he cared.

John floated serenely, counting down for yet another sunset. He would have forty-five minutes to enjoy the stars before the sun began to peek around the Earth once more as he fell endlessly towards the Earth.

“Hello John,” said EOS from beside him. She moved her camera array in front of him to ensure she had his full attention. “There are currently six developing situations across the globe. I am monitoring communications and redirecting authorities as first responders.”

“Thanks EOS,” said John.

“I also have one personal call on hold, and I have observed it has been seven hours since your last meal.”

“Who’s calling?”

“Alan Tracy, but he was very rude to me. May I keep him on hold while you fulfil your nutritional requirements?”

“No, you may not,” said John. “But I will promise to eat while I speak with him.”

“Multitasking will ensure suboptimal results in both conversation and digestion.”

“EOS.”

“Of course, John.” Her lights flashed blue and brightened to white. “Alan is waiting in the galley. I will leave you now for your perceived privacy.”

John pushed away from his display as the sun disappeared behind the Earth. Tracy Island was somewhere below him in the dark black of the ocean and their evening had already faded into night.

“Evening Alan,” he called out as he entered the galley.

“Hi John,” said Alan, bouncing up and down on the holoprojection. “How’s space?”

“Still cold and deadly,” said John calmly, pulling out his freeze-dried food and beginning to prepare his meal. “Is all well down on Tracy Island?”

Alan stopped jittering long enough to flop backwards on his chair. “I need help John,” he said with the barest hint of a whine. “This assignment on RLC circuits is killing me. I have the data from the experiment done but it doesn’t make any sense, and Virgil’s gone and put up the ‘get lost’ sign on his studio, and Gordon’s working on some environmental stressors paper, and Scott is…”

“Alan,” interrupted John, “Of course I’ll help you.”

Alan brightened immediately. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, I knew you loved me!”

“Go get it Ally,” said John with a fond eye roll. “This won’t take long.”

Perhaps, mused John as Alan flitted off screen, Alan was right. It was enough that he cared for his brothers in his own way and that they could see right through him in return. They knew why John stayed up in orbit better than anyone.

John’s actions always spoke louder than his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was worth the wait!! Life got busy as life has a tendency to do :D
> 
> 1\. I swear every SINGLE chapter of these is getting longer and longer.... it's not on purpose and I'm trying to take that as a positive sign that my creativity is increasing! Or something XD 
> 
> 2\. I totally started a Thunderbirds tumblr so if you're interested it's tracybirds.tumblr.com :P No pressure, I just like chatting a LOT
> 
> 3\. Also uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh sorry for making John cry?? Is it in character, hell if I know. But it's happening now.
> 
> 4\. I know TB5 is meant to be in geostationary orbit but..... I kind of ignored that for convenience sorry
> 
> Anyway, love hearing people's thoughts and feelings - thank you to all those who have commented and left kudos, it means a lot!!


	4. Virgil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a tumblr and promptly forgot about this fic :P OOPS
> 
> Nothing new for those who read the rest of this series on there, but I'm finally updating things here :D
> 
> Warning: discussions of grief and an offscreen car crash and OC death

Anniversaries were hard when you were never quite certain of the date, what with the inconsistent hours of their job dividing time into cycles of sleep and rescue instead of night and day. Virgil had once criss-crossed through thirty-eight timezones in a three day period and it wasn’t unusual to find birthdays had been forlornly overlooked in the haze of adrenaline and sleep. But they all had dates that they would always remember. They all had dates they’d rather forget. They made an effort to stop on the big ones. They each had their own rituals, their own traditions and coping mechanisms. But stop they did. Virgil wasn’t worried about his brothers on those days. He kept an eye out for the small ones instead, the ones that didn’t require a shutdown of International Rescue, just an outstretched hand to his brothers.

Alan refused to go into space on the anniversary of EOS’s arrival. John had jokingly suggested they throw her a birthday party and gone so far as to program a holographic cake for her. EOS had deemed the situation highly illogical, but had adored the book of paradoxes Gordon had given her. She snuck up behind Scott and recited a dozen in quick succession while he panicked, trying to work out if the event would cause Thunderbird Five to fall out of orbit. Virgil chuckled at the sight of John and Gordon laughing loudly at their brother but his heart twinged as Alan turned and walked away from the makeshift celebration on Tracy Island.

The date of Gordon’s accident meant more to the rest of them than it did Gordon. He chafed under the extra attention, preferring to avoid the reminder of the pain and brokenness he’d been lucky to survive. Virgil watched instead for the date Gordon had woken up, restrained in the hospital bed and unable to move. His eyes had widened as panic gripped at his throat, the fear of being paralysed and trapped forever taking over. Gordon moved more, talked more, touched more on that day than any other, every action a reminder that he was whole and free and alive.

He didn’t know what made Kayo grow so skittish a week after her birthday. She would escape to the other side of the island every year, silent and isolated. She had done so for as long as Virgil had known her. There were no sharp words, no sly comments made offhand with a wicked grin. Instead something cold and sad would grow and envelop her humour and she would be gone, Virgil watching helplessly from the sidelines.

Virgil had been the only one home when their Dad’s automated voice announced the unexpected arrival of the space elevator. John rushed through the lounge without a second glance and Virgil cautiously followed him to the slammed door of his disused bedroom. The fact that he was here and not there told Virgil that the mission was long over, that his brothers were on clean up duty or making their way home already. It told Virgil that the mission was not a success, that there was nothing more that John or anyone could do. It was another date he’d have to keep an eye out for.

Scott didn’t ever mention it and Virgil knows he feels silly even being affected by the date. Their brothers don’t bat an eye, too young or too busy not being born to realise the day even meant anything. The date Dad was meant to be in space but was grounded when he broke his leg ice skating with Scott. The date that marked the first fatalities in space since 2024. The difference was imperceptible, Scott hovering more over his brothers, reigning in his temper a little better and telling them he loved them. Virgil knew he had modelled his response after their Dad and lets him fuss without protest when he returns from a rescue with grazes covering his palms.

Virgil had a calendar of tragedy memorised and a determined will to create time for his family out of nothing. He knew he couldn’t solve their problems but he could follow them, be with them, wait for them. All he needed to do was to spend time with them and make sure they know that he always has time to spare for their dates.

***

Virgil woke up with a weight sitting heavy on his chest, a weight that made it hard to move through his morning routine and that forced him to focus on calisthenics over strength training during his workout. He saw the glances his brothers made over breakfast, the surreptitious way Gordon checked the calendar, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care what they thought. He allowed himself to be dragged up to the lounge room and shoved onto a couch without a protest.

“Time to talk, little brother,” said Scott softly. “What do you need?”

“It’s the twelfth,” he heard himself reply. The hollow words sunk like lead in the room, their weight felt by everyone present.

“Sure is, Virg,” said Gordon, unhappily. He rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder and snaked his arms around his waist.

The light in the corner of his eye shifted to a bright blue, but he didn’t acknowledge John’s appearance. He didn’t want solutions rattled off as John tried to fix him in the only way he knew how, he wanted and needed to feel the broken memory, the pain and the sorrow.

“Virgil?” Alan’s voice was high and uncertain and the first thing to cut through the fog of the morning. He held a slim black book in his hands, retrieved from the back of Virgil’s closet.

Virgil knows exactly what it is, knows what Alan is asking, and thanks him for it.

He opens the book and inhaled sharply, wondering if he would ever see the old two dimensional holo without the blur of tears obscuring his view.

The holo showed him as a teenager, him and a boy with sandy coloured hair, a dusting of freckles and a wicked grin. They were sitting on top of an old broken down car, the engine coated in oil splatters and dust from the previous century.

“Avery,” he said with a sad smile. “Let me tell you about Avery.”

They all knew Avery. They all knew the best friend Virgil had ever known. They knew how they were inseparable, how they’d met in Virgil’s sophomore year and had taken apart a holoprojector together in class to see how it worked. The ensuing detention had done nothing to dispel the growing bond between them. They knew the 1996 Toyota Corolla that the two had saved up for and split the cost on, determined to rebuild her as good as new, better even. They knew all of this, but still they stayed and they listened.

Virgil turned the page as he spoke, showing them the photos and holos and project notes he’d saved over the years.

“We were meant to go to the same college,” he said quietly as he flipped to a page showing a copy of his acceptance letter and a holo of the joint dinner party their families had thrown them.

His hand reached out and expanded the image so they could all see themselves clearly in the holo.

“It was a good night,” said Scott. “Dad tried to replace Grandma’s spaghetti before the Coopers arrived and spilt the sauce all over his shirt.”

Alan giggled. “Gordon and I started playing with it on the floor.

“You were so embarrassing,” said Virgil with a wet snuffle. “I didn’t speak to you for a week.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone tensed waiting for the next part of the story. He stared blankly ahead, a grey wash over his vision. Virgil knew he had hesitated too long when John’s gentle voice broke through.

“Turn the page, Virgil,” he said, his voice soft and kind. Virgil hated the pity he could hear under his words.

The page flipped and the dinner party was replaced by a funeral notice.

The information always felt too curt to Virgil’s eyes, an abrupt notice of the date and time of Avery’s passing that captured none of his vitality in life and leeched the trauma out of his death.

“You can stop,” whispered Gordon from beside him, but Virgil shook his head. His eyes shone as he stared, fixated, on the date hovering in mid-air.

“On the twelfth, we were driving home after a party at a friend’s place,” he began with a faltering breath. “I was driving. We hit a pothole and the car flipped. And then we rolled and when I woke up, he was dead.”

The silence in the room mirrored the silence in the hospital room that day when he’d come around, asking for his friend. The family hadn’t known how to respond. Years of practice speaking with grieving families and they still all struggled for words that felt powerless against the surge of emotion.

“It’s not fair,” said Alan, a tear rolling down his cheek. “They wouldn’t even let you go.”

The Coopers were lost in their grief and Alan was right. Virgil hadn’t been able to go to the funeral, blamed for his part in Avery’s death. It had been the final straw. They’d moved to the island but Virgil had never moved on. A part of him still lay at rest in a small country cemetery in Kansas.

He cleared his throat and shut the book, giving it back to Alan.

“Anyone need our help, John?” he asked, noticing the way his brother’s eyes darted downwards.

“Not today,” said John. “Just you.”

He held up a hand and the protest on Virgil’s lips died.

“Trust me,” he said, firmly. “They’re being heard. They’re being looked after. Let us do this for you.”

Virgil nodded in relief. He would always make time for his brothers on the days that are hard and he’s knew it wasn’t luck that made his brothers do the same for him. It was love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	5. Scott

The blaring alarm shot through Scott’s eardrums as he jolted awake, the tablet resting on his chest clattering to the floor.

_Please, not now John_, he thought as he struggled to pry his eyelids open.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

_Damn._

John’s voice was loud and urgent in the night and Scott yawned as his brothers ran into the room. Alan was still in his day clothes and he avoided Scott’s disapproving gaze. He would need to check in with Grandma and see if she could help him corner Alan about that – if he was staying awake into the night playing video games, Scott was concerned there would be hell to pay in the future.

If he was being honest with himself, there was hell to pay now. The end of the financial year was fast approaching and with it the annual uptick in deadlines and meetings and fifteen hour working days trying to fulfil his duties to Tracy Industries as well as to International Rescue and his family. He never expected to sympathise with his Dad after their numerous rows when he was a teenager but he had to admit, these days, he could understand the emotional turmoil on his father’s end that had made their fights so explosive.

“Actually, just Scott is needed this time,” John was saying, floating above them.

Scott started and looked up at John guiltily. He hadn’t the slightest clue what he was being expected to do, beyond get to Thunderbird One. His brothers were watching him closely and he made a snap decision.

“FAB, John,” he said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. He flashed him a smile as he jogged over to the lights to prepare for launch.

“Scott, are you sure?” said John, who was now watching him with eyes far sharper than Scott was comfortable with. “Maybe Virgil should–”

“I’m fine,” scoffed Scott as he pulled the levers down and the wall spun around. _I have to be fine. I can’t let them down._

He could still hear their voices as he strode forward.

“I don’t see why we had to all get up if you knew just Scooter was needed,” grumbled Gordon through the wall. “You could have – OW!”

Scott dismissed the comment from his mind as the launch sequence began. It was time to put aside his concerns for Alan, the piling backlog of reports and the need for sleep. There were people out there who needed him and who wouldn’t be afforded mundane luxuries like work and sleep until he had reached them.

Meanwhile, Gordon was hopping up and down on one leg.

“What was that for Virgil?” he complained loudly as he examined the foot in his hand carefully.

“He could still hear you,” said Virgil. “Out with it, John, what’s really going on?”

“This will have to be quick, I don’t think he heard a single thing I said,” John told them as he hurriedly pulled up the data he had been compiling and sent a copy to Virgil’s tablet.

“Wait, you sent him on a real mission?” exclaimed Virgil.

“Of course I did, you thought I was going to get him to fly around aimlessly and tell him ‘oh, no worries, it’s been handled come home now’?”

“But, is that safe?” asked Gordon worriedly.

“Definitely not,” said John grimly. “But that’s the point isn’t it? He’s not being safe and I don’t think he even realises it. We need to act.”

“I was more thinking of the people you’ve sent him after.”

“They’ll be fine. They’re stranded by a rockfall with no supplies but they’re uninjured, emergency services were going to take seventy-two hours to clear the road at minimum. They requested our help as their helicopters were all busy with injured parties. All he has to do is pick them up and drop them on the other side. One moment guys.”

John’s hologram blinked off as he went to explain the situation to Scott again.

Virgil flicked through John’s compilation of stats while they waited.

“What are we gonna do, Virgil?” asked Alan as he read over his shoulder.

“And he gets on _my_ case about consistent scheduling,” muttered Gordon. “Look at that!”

“He’s got a lot on his plate right now,” said Virgil quietly. “I’m not sure how we can make this easier on him.”

“Couldn’t we share some of this though?” asked Alan. “I mean, we could help!”

“Not as simple as that Allie,” said Gordon, pulling up the tab showing Scott’s to-do list. He whistled softly. “Look, that’s all Tracy Industries – we’re not _allowed_ to help with that until we’re twenty-one.”

“And we’d need a business degree besides to be of any use,” said Virgil, looking through the list glumly. “I still can’t wrap my head around what the difference between the CEO and the COO’s jobs are, let alone sound halfway intelligent at the board of directors’ meeting. John might be able to do something, but I sure can’t.”

They looked up at the rumble coming from the pool outside and watched as Thunderbird One took to the skies. Alan gave a half-hearted wave.

“He’s gone,” said John popping back into view. “He chewed me out for not getting enough sleep, the hypocrite. So he won’t be interrupting unless it’s urgent.”

“What do you want us to do with this, Johnny?” said Gordon, waving the tablet at him. “You didn’t just send us all this so we could feel bad for Scott and not be a dick to him.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Well I did partially. Good first step would be not being a dick to him. Even better would be to move right up the other end of the scale into some actual compassion.”

“What John means,” said Virgil, interrupting Gordon’s indignant response, “is that we have to keep an eye on him and help make sure he hits the basics. Food, sleep, a bit of fun – pranks _don’t_ count Gordon.”

“And we need to get him in a better mood before I can approach him about sharing the TI work,” said John. “He’s the one that has to attend the meetings, but I can read and summarise information much faster than he can.”

“As of right now, you can submit your requests for equipment to me,” said Virgil. “I imagine he won’t let go of debrief anytime soon, but everything else I’m sure we can handle quietly as long as we keep a paper trail. That ought to lighten at least some of the workload as well.”

Virgil and John looked at each other and nodded.

“Will that be enough?” asked Alan.

“It’s not forever,” said John. “It’s just been a busy quarter. There’s an end coming and he’ll be right back to his normal self. We just don’t want him burnt out in the meantime.”

“Well then,” said Gordon cheerfully. “Operation Smother Scott is go!”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

There was a murmur of agreement as they settled back into their usual routine, waiting to see what the next day would bring.

***

It was 3 a.m. when Scott stumbled back into the silent house. He looked longingly towards the staircase that would lead him up to his room before staggering over to the coffee machine. Newly refuelled, he settled himself at his Dad’s desk and picked up one of the discarded tablets from his work earlier. His cheek fell steadily downwards as he read until it came to a rest on the desktop and his fingers went slack around the stylus he held. A soft snore betrayed his slumber to Gordon who was sneaking through the lounge room to go for his morning swim. His brother paused, turning the lights off and gently wrapping a spare blanket across his shoulders. Scott remained oblivious to the entire incident.

It was 11:30 a.m. when Scott stirred. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the blur from his vision and reached a hand up to scrub at his face. Instead of soft skin and scratchy stubble, he felt the smooth texture of paper crinkling under his fingers.

“What the?” he muttered to himself, pulling himself upright. The sticky note was easily removed and he stared at it for a moment, trying to bring the words written on it into focus.

‘Love you Scott!’ The black ink stood out against the bright pink of the sticky, in the familiar scrawl that Scott recognised from reading Alan’s homework over the years. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he read it over again. He looked up and saw another sticky note – green this time – hanging off the edge of the desk.

Plucking it from the desk, his smile broadened as he read the note – ‘Follow me :)’

And now he could see it, a trail of neon leading him away from the desk and down the stairs. They don’t all have writing on them but he collects them anyway, tangible and real reminders of this small adventure Alan has concocted and the way he sees his big brother.

‘Thank you for being my brother’

‘I’m cheering you on!’

‘We’re here for you <3’

‘Do you think we could have tacos tomorrow night? I’ll make them!’

The stickies led up the side of the island in the kitchen to a covered plate. It was coated in even more sticky notes and Scott huffed a laugh as he leaned over to read the detailed threats of what would happen if anyone other than Scott so much as breathed on the cookies Alan had evidently baked that morning. The frowny faces he’d drawn all over the stickies were at odds with the gesture but Scott couldn’t help but bask in the warmth that filled his stomach as he ate the first cookie, chocolate chips melting in his mouth.

He picked up the plate and took them back upstairs and set them back down on the desk. The sticky notes he carefully arranged around him so he could see them as he dove back into the world of quarterly profits and projected market shares and PR release forms and the rest of the backlog that found its way into his inbox.

It wasn’t much, but his heart lightened with every flash of neon he spotted out of the corner of his eyes.

***

Scott had worked through cramping muscles on daring rescues more times than he could count. However, the stiff ache that developed from hunching over paperwork for hours on end was a new experience for him. He groaned and arched his back, hoping to reassure his protesting muscles into silence.

The light outside had dimmed enough that looking back down at the tablet made Scott’s eyes ache, but he sighed and turned the desk lamp on to settle in for another long night.

“Hey, brother of mine,” said Gordon, leaning against Scott’s shoulder. “Still working?”

“You have pointy elbows,” he grumbled and then gasped as Gordon let more of his weight slip onto his back.

“How tense are you, Scotty?” Gordon demanded. “Come on, up you get, let’s go.”

“Go where?” he asked, looking befuddled but allowing himself to be dragged to his feet.

“Your room,” replied Gordon, pushing him up the stairs. “Hop to.”

Scott tried to think of what on earth Gordon could want that couldn’t be sorted out in the lounge room.

“Did you need something, Gordon?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” agreed Gordon. “Very wrong.”

“Can you talk to Virgil?” Scott asked, a guilty feeling erupting in his gut at the words. “I’m sorry Gords, but I’m really busy.”

“It has to be you.”

“Oh,” said Scott, cringing slightly. “Okay.”

They stepped into Scott’s room together and Scott blinked at the late afternoon sun that streamed through his windows. The room was tidy, bed made and clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. It was just the way Scott liked it, calm and organised and in complete contrast to the digital clutter taking up room in both his tablet and his brain.

“When was the last time you were up here?” grumbled Gordon as he flung the windows open in an effort to refresh the stifling air.

“Only a couple of days ago,” said Scott vaguely, turning on the air conditioner. “Maybe three. Before that flash flood.”

Gordon shook his head, knowing that the incident Scott was remembering had taken place a week earlier. He dumped himself unceremoniously onto Scott’s bed and patted the newly formed wrinkle beside him. Scott crawled onto the covers next to him.

“Well?” he said, hunching over in an attempt to relieve the ache spreading down from his neck. “What’s wrong Gordon?”

“I’m worried about you, Scott.”

“That’s usually my line.”

“Well, now I know how you feel.”

Scott sighed. “Gordon, I’m really sorry but if that’s all, the best thing right now is to let me keep working. The sooner I finish, the sooner things will go back to normal.”

“They won’t though,” said Gordon looking troubled. “Come on Scott, this isn’t sustainable in the long run. Can’t we do anything to help out?”

Scott grimaced as he thought back over the long list of tasks still to be completed. He knew delegation was his weakest skill, whether it was due to not trusting himself to accurately communicate his vision, or happily giving his brothers a much deserved break, or simply not realising it was an option. He had to admit, Gordon’s offer was tempting.

He twisted his head to look directly at Gordon and winced at the loud crack that reverberated around the room.

Gordon pulled a face.

“Okay, I can at least help with _that_,” he said with an eye roll. “Do you just not take care of your body at all? Come on, turn around.”

“What for?”

“Massage,” his brother replied shortly. “Lie down, you’ve been in one position for far too long working on all that crap.”

“That ‘crap’ is the guts and bones of everything Dad built,” Scott reminded him as he laid down on his stomach. “Paperwork is…”

“Crap, I know. Stay there,” ordered Gordon.

“Where are you going?” called Scott as his brother raced out of the room. He groaned and shoved his head into the pillow. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Okay, ready,” said Gordon racing back into the room.

“What is that?”

“Massage cream. Trust me, this kind of friction on bare skin _hurts_.”

“Why do you have massage cream?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Scotty?”

Scott grunted in response as Gordon’s deft hands began to knead at his neck. His hands seemed to glide and it was evident his brother did know what he was doing, his touch gentle and sure.

“You’re doing a good job, Scott,” Gordon said quietly. “Dad would be proud of you.”

Scott swallowed back a hard lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He could feel tension slowly being drained from his body like some kind of magic, leaving him raw and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t anticipated. There was little else to focus on and so he listened intently to the sound of his own breathing which grew slowly deeper as his mind drifted into sleep.

Gordon grinned down at his eldest brother, asleep in his own bed for the first time in a week.

***

Scott awoke slowly, disorientated by the feel of soft fabric beneath his cheek instead of the hard, sharp edge of his tablet, warmed by the prolonged contact with his skin. He propped himself up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes with a yawn.

“Where the hell did he learn that?” Scott muttered to himself, stretching out the muscles Gordon had so adeptly massaged the previous afternoon. He felt refreshed, his thinking clearer that he could remember it being and the many, many hours of deep sleep had evidently done him a world of good.

No longer befuddled with stress and exhaustion, he could feel the old sweat and dirt built up to a low level grime in his hair and on his clothes. A quick shower and change of clothes and Scott was quickly walking down the stairs to get to the lounge room.

“Scott!”

John’s hologram popped up in the centre of the room and his brother smiled down at him.

“Morning John,” he called. “Where is everyone?”

John nodded at the displays offscreen. “Mission. They’re nearly wrapped up though, we can talk. How are you feeling?”

“You know, I feel fantastic.”

“Good.”

Scott couldn’t help but notice John was looking rather self-satisfied at his statement. He narrowed his eyes.

“What did you do?”

“Not a thing.”

“Did you get Alan to drug those cookies? Gordon’s massage cream?”

“Gordon has massage cream? Why?”

“Don’t ask, and don’t change the subject.”

John rolled his eyes and turned away to input some data on an unseen holoscreen.

“Nobody drugged you. You just got fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep for the first time in years.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Scott said with a smile. “Makes the prospect of getting on with all this much more bearable.”

“Right back into then? Can I help?”

Scott automatically opened his mouth to refuse him, but paused slightly as the memory of Gordon’s words last night floated into his head. The sincerity was mirrored in the blue hologram above him and he couldn’t think of a good reason to tell John no.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. To his credit, John only looked surprised for a mere fraction of a second before breaking into a broad grin.

“What can I do?”

“Could you scan through these files and write me a summary of their contents? Find the most important information for me to write up the board report and presentation, as well as the company address. You know what needs to be included?”

“Market returns, share predictions, personnel changes…” John rattled off the list quickly and Scott nodded, grateful that his brother’s near perfect recall would prevent any delays.

“Thanks John. I’ll get onto the IR side of things in the meantime.”

“FAB, Scott. Sounds like a plan.”

Scott turned to walk towards the desk when his brother called him back gently.

“You’re doing great, you know that?” he said. “All the hard work? We appreciate what you do for us, words can’t express it.”

Scott smiled and blinked back sudden tears that came on as quickly as the swelling in his chest.

“Love you, Johnny.”

John looked a little embarrassed. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I talk to you later.”

***

Scott stood and stretched, listening to the quiet melody of the piano behind him. Virgil had closed the lid so as not to disturb him but they had all grown used to working through the soft flow of music over the years and Scott didn’t really mind. Mid-scale, the piece was cut off abruptly when Virgil looked up, noticing his brother’s movement.

“How’s it going?”

“Finished.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Scott groaned and flopped down, leaning against the piano.

“Get off,” said Virgil, looking mildly exasperated.

Scott didn’t move. “Don’t ever let me do that again.”

Virgil’s expression softened.

“Sure thing Scott,” he said, turning back to his piano. “We’re proud of you though. Did you ask John for help in the end?”

“He asked me. So did Gordon for that matter.”

Virgil hummed, his hands gliding across the keys again. Scott waited as the composition around him swelled.

“I think,” said Virgil slowly as the music dropped in tempo. “I think we might need a change.”

“A change?”

“So this doesn’t happen again.”

They were both quiet, Virgil needing his mental energy to continue playing, Scott needing his to think.

“What do you suggest?” Scott finally asked.

Virgil glanced up and said nothing. In truth, he was just happy his brothers had gotten Scott to a position where they could have this conversation. He was fairly certain that it would be a long road of trial and error to find a new balance that worked for them all. And he also understood Scott’s desire to give them all a break better than his younger brothers.

“We can split it,” he said finally as his hands fell on the final bars. “Brains and I can work IR, John can help with the business end of things and give Gordon and Alan a couple of PR projects. We’ll follow your lead, we trust you.”

There were three words that reverberated in Scott’s head, three words that widened his vision to the reality, the enormity of what Virgil was telling him.

They trusted him, completely and fully.

Every doubt that had plagued him since their Dad had disappeared, every fear that he’d make the wrong step and one of his brothers wouldn’t come home.

_We trust you_.

Scott smiled, the words lifting his spirit in a way he hadn’t realised he was missing.

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading if you're joining me at the end!! I hope you enjoyed the ups and downs of it all :) The support of this fandom has been utterly fantastic and I'm looking forward to continuing to write for a while yet!


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